


A Cursed Life

by ItsyBitsyAragog



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:01:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26189149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsyBitsyAragog/pseuds/ItsyBitsyAragog
Summary: While exploring an old, abandoned Pureblood house as part of an Auror mission, Draco and Hermione accidentally become the victims of an ancient pureblood ritual, that changes both their lives dramatically and irrevocably. Will they be able to survive the ramifications, or will the curse of the Báthory household haunt them for the rest of their lives?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 28
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

The last few moments before the Light, she remembered vividly. 

Someone had been saying something. Singing? What had happened? She slowly opened her eyes and squirmed fitfully at the light. Merlin, was she sore. Ron was asleep in an armchair beside her. She recognized the room she occasionally used in Grimmauld Place. The wallpaper couldn’t be mistaken, being as it pictured decapitated Troll heads interspersed with crossed wands. Delightful.

“Ron. Ron.”

He blearily opened his eyes, then started awake.

“Hermione! How’re you feeling?” He sat up and massaged the side of his face he’d been sleeping on. “Wait, let me just send a Patronus to Harry.” 

A small Terrier scampered off from the end of his wand and disappeared through the door. Hermione, still curled up under the warm duvet, asked, 

“What happened?” 

“Before you get all worked up, we’ve already submitted all the artifacts and notes to the Ministry so you can have a rest. All the documents are in order and we pretty much cleared the Báthory manor, so they’re only half pissed some of the team got injured.”

“That’s actually nice to hear for once,”Hermione replied as she grinned, “But why am I in bed, feeling as though I’ve been run over by a herd of hippogriffs?”

“Ahh well, that. We don’t know, honestly. It was all fine and good until you were dragged into that hidden room with Malfoy, and now, here we are.”

“It’s all really a blur, but I can remember some things, fleetingly.” 

She repositioned herself in bed, feeling all the sore spots cry out in protest. Images of glowing stones and fire and Malfoy’s bewildered, scared face flashed through her mind, making her suck in her breath in a sudden pained gasp.

“Don’t strain yourself. Harry’s probably going to bring the Pensieve from Malfoy’s house. Malfoy woke this morning and Harry went over to see him. We thought that our memories would be a good place to start. He doesn’t remember much, either.”

“Him, too? How long have we been out? What about Bill?”

“Bill was thrown back from the room. He banged up his shoulder a bit, but he’s okay. Don’t worry, you’ve only been out for a day and I’ve had longer ‘naps’.”

Hermione laughed at his admission. 

“I’ll go get you some tea while you, -er..freshen up.” he rose awkwardly. “They’ll probably be back soon. You’ll be alright, then?”

Hermione nodded. She pushed back the blanket, and immediately screamed.

“Ahhh! Merlin, my hand! Why is it all bandaged up?”

“Oh, shite. Sorry, Hermione. Only, dittany wasn’t working. Malfoy’s mom got hold of some sort of salve and it helped Malfoy’s hand. I’ll get them to bring it. Do you think you can manage until then?”

“Umm, yes, I suppose. Only, now I really want answers.”

Ron gave an understanding grimace.

“We’ll get them soon enough.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Have you got everything?”

“Just go, Potter. I’ll be right over.”

Harry stepped into the fireplace with the salve for Hermione and a bundle of books on the Báthory family and estate that they’d been reading without much result. Draco Malfoy watched him disappear, kissed his mother on the cheek and took the ornate wooden chest she held towards him, containing his family’s pensieve.

“I’ll owl you if we need any more advice, Mother.”

“You do that, darling. Meanwhile I do think I’ll look into a few matters myself and see what I can find.” Narcissa Malfoy replied.

Draco, arms still clasped around the very large chest, spun around and disappeared with a loud crack.

Reappearing in Grimmauld Place, he almost collapsed onto Ginny Potter in her foyer. Harry quickly gave him a hand as Ginny levitated the chest away from him onto a nearby table.

“I told you I should have taken the pensieve. You’re still weak.”

“Don’t mother me, Potter. Like I’d trust your grubby paws with my family heirlooms. Besides,” he added, sinking into the armchair Harry summoned up behind him, “Floo’s just as bad.”

Harry ignored his guest’s insults and started upstairs to Hermione’s bedroom, the chest levitating in front of him.

“Can you make it up the stairs?”

“Who knows, in this rotting mausoleum,” Draco muttered, following Harry up the stairs, clutching the banister for dear life.

They met Hermione sitting up in bed, dressed and looking much better, sipping a cup of tea using her left hand, Ron sitting beside her, stirring his own cup.

“Oh, good.” Ron got up as Harry and Draco entered, the pensieve drifting away to occupy a side table that had been reinforced with magic. “Got the salve, then?”

Harry threw a small bottle over to Ron and said, 

“Alright, Hermione? Gave us a scare.”

Hermione smiled and replied,

“Why is it I always end up in bed after you drag me into something reckless?”

“We’ve all been there,” Ron muttered, opening the small bottle and spilling a glob of it onto his hands.

“What in Merlin’s name, give that here.” Draco snatched the bottle away and siphoned the salve off back into the bottle using his wand, whispering a purifying charm as he did so.

“What?”

“It’s not Essence of Dittany or Calamine potion. You don’t apply it with your hands, you apply it with your wand.”

“Oh, well how-”

“I’ll do it.” Draco cut him off.

He motioned for Hermione to finish her tea, but she set it down on her bedside table and started to tug at the bandages wrapped around her right hand. 

“I’ll take them off.” Draco offered, but Hermione had already gotten most of it away.

“No, it’s gone. Here.” She pulled away the last round and held forward her arm, which was shaking slightly. Her hand looked burned, but not by fire. More like molten lava was poured on it and hardened around parts, while other parts had burned away.

“Mine was worse, I think,” Draco reassured her. “Even gave me another scar.” He held his hand forward to show her the long thin ‘X’ shaped scar over his right hand.

He set the salve bottle on the bed, took out his wand and took Hermione’s hand in his own. Just as he was about to start the incantation. He felt a sudden warmth and a rush of euphoria, which startled him. Looking at Hermione’s shocked expression, he could see she felt it too. 

“Whoa, that salve is fast. Didn’t it take an hour for yours to heal?” Ron asked, seemingly unaware of the magical frisson the other two had experienced. Harry, who was fiddling with the Pensieve, turned to inspect Hermione’s wound.

“Malfoy.” Hermione’s shaky voice interrupted his thoughts and he looked down at her hand, now completely healed, with the exception of a similar ‘X’ shaped scar over her hand.

“But, I didn’t use any salve,” Draco muttered, almost to himself.

“You didn’t?” Harry asked. “But it’s completely healed, not even pink and stretched like yours was in the beginning.”

“You did feel that, didn’t you?” Hermione questioned warily.

“Yeah, but I didn’t do anything.”

“I think your magic healed me, somehow. If that’s not absurd.” She looked at him questioningly, but he was still fixated with her hand.

“You’ve got a scar.” He traced the thin lines with his finger, still a little high from the magic.

Harry cleared his throat and Draco immediately dropped her hand.

“Maybe we should find some answers then, yeah?” He motioned to the Pensieve.

“Yeah.” Draco answered.

Hermione got up and flexing her newly healed hand a few times asked,

“How are we going to do this? I don’t remember much so how will I place memories in the pensieve?”

Harry replied, looking a little guilty,

“Well, the Department of Mysteries have created a spell the Auror department uses occasionally to find memories that have been tampered with or hidden in subjects, always with their approval. We don’t use it in interrogation or anything.”

Hermione gave him a sceptical look.

“You mean, you don’t, Harry.”

“Hey-” Ron said, but Draco interrupted.

“Never mind that, now. Like it’s really a surprise. What do we have to do then, Potter?”

Harry raised his wand.

“Just stand still, I haven’t used this spell that much so I’m a bit rusty.”

“Brilliant. This must be the one time being morally uptight doesn’t pay off.”

Hermione glared at him and Draco rolled his eyes before fixing them on Harry. Harry muttered, 

“Revelabis”

A sudden whoosh seemed to reverberate inside his brain and Draco felt for the back of the chair to regain his balance. He could feel the spell searching, searching and then a sudden yank.

“Aah!” Draco cried, falling to his knees.

Harry quickly deposited the silvery substance in a waiting container and hurried to haul Draco up, with Ron’s help.

“You alright, Malfoy?”

“I suppose.” He got up and felt his head as though wanting to be sure it was still on his shoulders. “I think my memories will be enough, though. They’re both probably the same.” 

“I suppose we could see these and if needed, you could do the spell afterwards on me,” Hermione answered, looking mildly apprehensive.

They went to stand around the pensieve and Harry deposited the contents in a thin stream.

“Wait, I want to try something,” Hermione interrupted, just as Harry opened his mouth to begin the countdown. She addressed Draco,

“Do you have a headache or anything?”

“Look, Hermione, the spell’s not that bad, I’m just bad at casting it because it feels weird,” Harry explained exasperatedly.

“No, it’s not that,” Hermione said, waving her hand at Harry to shush him. “Do you?”

“Yes, like a weight inside my head. Also, a little dizzy, I suppose.”

“Touch my hand.”

“What?”

“What?” echoed Harry and Ron.

“No, I just want to see if what happened earlier can be repeated. Here.” She held her hand forward over the pensieve.

Draco reached out and placed his hand lightly over her palm, and felt the similar frisson of energy, like a light, sweet summer breeze washing over him. Hermione looked amazed.

“You felt that, too?”

“Felt what?” Ron asked, looking at both of them curiously.

“Yes,” replied Draco, “And the headache’s gone as well.”

All four of them looked at the scar on Draco’s hand, then at each other.

“Ready to go in, then?”

“On three. One, two, three!”


	3. Chapter 3

“Ready to go in, then?”

“On three. One, two, three!”

The four of them descended into the silvery liquid, floating down and landing gracefully side by side. They saw themselves in the midst of ransacking and clearing the Báthory villa that had previously been unplottable. The family was determined dead, so by Ministry order, Hermione and her team of researchers figured out a way to crack its enchantments.

The Memory version of Hermione broke the silence.

“Malfoy, is this the rune for blood?”

Malfoy stepped towards her, craned his head forward to see the symbol carved onto the old, dusty stone. He lit his wand and held it close.

“Line, septre, looks about right.”

“This is only opened by bloodmagick, I think,” Hermione said to him, more a statement than a question.

He nodded. Tracing the long inscription with his wand, he muttered,

“Aperta lubeo.”

The symbols glowed and the stone wall shuddered, but didn’t move. Hermione pointed her wand and repeated the phrase. Nothing. Malfoy looked delighted. She tried again, looking as though the wall had insulted her ancestors. Given the fact she was a muggleborn and this wall, the part of a pureblood home, she had a feeling that it had indeed done exactly that.

Draco smirked and motioned with his wand for her to stop. He tried again and the brick again glowed, but did nothing.

Hermione suddenly grabbed his hand and quickly made a long slit across his palm using her wand.

“Ow! What in-”

Hermione, looking pleased with herself, thrust his hand towards the brick, smearing his blood over the cold brick. Draco, still fuming, slashed his wand at the brick.

“Aperta lubeo!”

The wall emitted a loud guttural groan, heaving and slowly sliding open. Ron, Harry, and Bill came towards the commotion, all of them waiting for what the cavernous space would reveal. Draco healed his hand and said,

“You could have given me the courtesy of a warning.”

“You would have moaned about it for a whole- Malfoy!” 

She grabbed his arm and hauled him back with both hands.

The passage had opened fully, showing a dark corridor with a bright burning light at the end. A very strong breeze had started, almost pulling Draco towards the door, hence Hermione’s interference. Suddenly the breeze enveloped Draco and Hermione, forming a pillar of wind between them and the others. Draco and Hermione grabbed each other, trying to gain traction against the strong current. Bill thrust his fists in and caught hold of both their robes, only to be knocked away as the wind pulled Hermione and Draco in, the passage closing with a ominous snap, leaving Harry and Ron bewildered and in shock.

As this was Draco’s memory, the four of them had followed Draco inside this time. The witch and wizard were both still enveloped in the gust of air, as it pulled them towards the end of the passage, towards the light, their feet barely touching the ground. Just as they entered the anteroom, the gust quelled and both Draco and Hermione were dropped onto the hard granite unceremoniously as another stone wall closed behind them.

They both got up warily, wands held aloft, looking around at the brightly lit room. It was ovoid, with torches intermittently hung on iron brackets in the wall. An altar was placed at the center of the room and the far end held a pool filled with clear water, which intermittently splashed, startling them. A long frayed tapestry hung on a wall, depicting several wizards and witches, their robes grand and clearly not of this century, standing in a semicircle with looks of fascinated wonder on their faces as another slender, tall woman wearing green and white robes held her hand raised above them. Hermione walked towards the tapestry, studying it closely. 

“Do you know what this room is?” She asked Draco in a hushed whisper, as though afraid she would be overheard.

“How in Merlin’s name would I know. All pureblood dwellings don’t come with hidden sacrificial altars.”

“So, do you think that’s what this is? An altar room for sacrificing people?” She asked, shocked.

Draco came towards the tapestry as well, ignoring her question.

“That woman there. She looks as if she’s fey. Do you think they were trying to sacrifice her? Or the other way around?” Draco asked, clearly teasing her.

“Fey? What do you mean she looks fey?” Hermione answered, annoyed that he didn’t seem more concerned about their predicament. “Real faeries are tiny, they don’t look like that. That’s just from stories of long time ago where people mistook veelas and beautiful, mysterious witches for faeries.”

“Not to sound like Loony Lovegood, but you really can’t fathom accepting-”

They both suddenly turned as a high pitched musical note filled the room, almost wailing, but beautifully mesmerising. Their eyes were drawn towards the pool in the backdrop, which had suddenly begun splashing and bubbling more menacingly. As they looked on, a woman slowly emerged from the depths, her wet hair stuck on her dark face, her deep ruby robe soaked and clinging to her figure. She stepped onto the grey stone of the floor, and as she did so, all the water seemed to evaporate away, leaving the most alluring, yet intimidating being both Draco and Hermione had ever witnessed.

“You have called me again, so I have come,” she sang out, her voice as stupefying as her appearance. She spoke no language recognized by them, but somehow her lilted notes seemed to burrow into their mind, awakening them to their meaning.

Draco spoke first.

“You are mistaken, we have not called you.”

The woman laughed, a light tinkle, but somehow, it made Hermione’s flesh crawl.

“The arrogance of these children of the wand! You have given your blood, is it not so? I come due to honor, due to a promise to your ancestors, who saved my child from death. Insult me, and I will not be so forgiving.” The song remained as bright and lilting as before, but the temperature in the chamber had dropped several degrees, the torches flickering furiously, attempting to stay alight.

Hermione stepped forward, desperately.

“We apologize. It’s been many years and we have forgotten the stories of our ancestors. We meant no disrespect.”

“You lie. You are not of Báthory blood.” She turned to Draco. “Why do you bring her here to bind? I know you carry only a few drops. Are you all that is left of your line?”

“I-erm, yes, I suppose I am the last, ” stuttered Draco. “Wait, what do you mean, to bind?”

“I see this magical bloodline has been decimated. You need the protection of the bind. That is my purpose, my promise. Twice I have been called in times of need, many more for times of greed. Yet, I remembered my promise and I did what was demanded.”

“What is this bind, exactly?”

The woman glided slowly towards the altar and set her hands upon it. The bare stone suddenly vibrated, as though shaking off the years of grime and dust. Runes suddenly appeared against the surface, glowing bright blue.

“It saddens us that wandfolk have abandoned their ancestral magicks and forgotten their past. Your magic shall be bound to one another. It will make you powerful enough to protect what is left of your line. I will not ask your intentions with the girl. I shall be faithful to my word. Come forward, son of Báthory.”

“Our magic? Erm, what if we want to reverse it later? I mean, uh, after I’ve protected the family and all that?”

“Come, child. My patience is waning. You will do what is necessary to protect your blood; do not shy from your intentions, they are honorable. The girl has strong magic. The bind will keep til death and protect you and your descendants.” She brushed her hand over both their foreheads and kneeled before the altar, chanting, her voice rising, echoing through the chamber,

“Come forth, spirits and elements!  
I seek your guidance,  
Help me fulfil my duty,  
Help protect this bloodline of magic,  
Send me your strength and power!”

Hermione and Draco looked at each other in horror. Hermione rushed to the wall that hid the door to the passage and started searching frantically for a way to open it. Draco, standing beside her, started putting up wards and shields around them both, but they could feel them being swept away in the wind that had started up in the chamber again. The water from the basin leapt up and glided in a smooth path towards the altar as the stone itself burst into green flame.

The woman rose again and looked up, her eyes as black as night, the flames reflecting in their depths.

“Step forward.”

Draco could feel his feet being compelled forward. He could see Hermione struggling as well as she was forced to walk towards the flames.

“I must warn you, you have brought an outsider, so the binding will be painful, but you shall heal, and then power will be yours.”

Draco opened his mouth to question this statement, but could barely get a word out due to the fire bursting upwards, almost singeing his eyebrows. The wind blew more fiercely and Hermione gasped as she tried to draw in breath. The faerie started chanting again, more loudly. Draco, Hermione, Ron and Harry stared at the memory versions of Draco and Hermione, whose faces suddenly looked blank and content, swaying slightly to the chanting, as if under the Imperius. 

“Lend me your power, oh spirits!  
To protect the family Báthory,  
Their magic calls in this hour of need,  
Spirits of earth and air,  
Spirits of fire and water,  
Guide me!  
Free their mortal binds,  
Unleash their magic ,  
Give glory and strength,  
Power and Might  
To we who ask.  
Animabus nostris liberate!  
LIbera nos magicae!”

Slowly both Draco and Hermione, still under the influence of the magical chant, raised their right hands and placed them above the fire. The fire suddenly leapt onto their hands, making them burn on their own. Hermione and Draco both gasped with pain, but remained in the trance. The faerie was humming now, a mystical tune, making the fire dance to the notes. She took a silver blade from her side and cut an “X’ first into Draco’s hand, then Hermione’s, saying as she did so,

“Let debts be repaid, as you have saved my blood, so I shall save yours. This is my gift to you.”

The blood seemed to sizzle on the blade and the creature scraped the metal blade on the stone of the altar, crooning quietly. 

She raised her hands above them both and Draco and Hermione’s hands came together, a ball of energy weaving around them. They shuddered as the energy pulsated and slithered around them to encompass their entire bodies, then slowly fading, as if soaked up into their very beings. The stream of water suddenly awoke and rose high above the altar of its own accord and splashed onto their hands, dousing the fire, but leaving them burnt and disfigured as before. 

They both stood there, still weak and disoriented as the faerie walked back to the pool and stepped in, sinking slowly back into the water without a backward glance, all the torches dimming with her departure. Hermione suddenly stumbled, looking ready to faint. Draco tried to catch her but feeling unsteady himself, grabbed onto her arm and they both fell to the floor, out cold.


	4. Chapter 4

The four of them were suddenly ejected from the memory as soon as Draco lost his consciousness. They stood there in shock, no one knowing what to say. Finally, Draco broke the silence.

“We need to know what this means. We need to access all the Báthory family records or books.”

Harry agreed. 

“Your family’s, as well. There must be some Báthory on the tree to find.”

“You’re right. We should bring everything here and set up in the library. Or would the library at the Manor be better suited?”

“Manor’s probably best, “replied Harry. “Half the stuff we need to search will be there.”

“We should probably ask my mother, as well. She knows a lot of Pureblood legends and folklore.”  
“I don’t think we should let anyone know what happened until we figure out more about it.” Hermione interjected. “That includes the Ministry, so make sure no one sees you stealing paperwork.”

“Are you serious, Hermione?” questioned Ron, grinning. “Your office is like the Mariana Trench. Now you’re there to find and catalogue everything, no one bothers going down there unless they’re masochistic.”

“Oh, ha ha. I’m serious, Ron. Us four. Draco’s mum, if need be. We tell the Ministry we blacked out as soon as we got pulled in and that’s all that happened.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” added Draco.

“As it happens, so do I,” answered Harry. “

“Harry, you and Ron get the books and scrolls we’ve recovered. They’re still stored in the Auror department to scan for curses and haven’t been brought along to the MRD.” Hermione said, trying to think about what needed to be done. “Malfoy and I will go along to the Manor, if that’s okay?” She looked at Malfoy. He nodded. Harry nodded as well and left with Ron. 

The MRD was Hermione’s department or the Ministry Research Department; one step lower than the Dept of Mysteries. She worked not only with the Aurors, but multiple other ministerial departments. The books and other materials collected would be perused by her team and details recorded, after the Auror team of curse breakers gave the materials their okay. Bill now worked for the Auror department as the Gringotts goblins had been a little unforgiving about Ron’s involvement in the only successful Gringotts break-in in history; and Bill, not one to involve in petty politics, simply left the job after Victoire was born. 

Draco was not a member of any Ministry department, but was a consultant in the field of Pureblood history, curses and bloodmagick enchantments, along with Theo Nott and Daphne Greengrass. It had originally been a part of their sentence after the war, but it had proved to be a successful endeavor and the Auror department had requested to keep them on for when the need arose. Draco knew it was also an easy way for the Ministry to use him as well as keep an eye on him, but he had grown to enjoy the thrill and excitement of a mission. He was actually extremely interested in Wizarding history and artifacts, collecting and studying them whenever he could. He had no other job, but simply invested in businesses and reaped the profits when they paid off, so these missions were a welcome adrenaline hike. 

Draco and Hermione walked down the stairs towards the Floo in silence, each in their own thoughts. Hermione was carrying all the books and parchments that Harry had brought to Grimmauld Place for them to look through. Draco, who was levitating the Pensieve, interrupted her thoughts when they got to the fire,

“I think I should go first.”

Hermione looked up, surprised.

“Oh, that’s fine. I’d rather you were already there when I arrive.”

“That’s what I figured. I’ll apparate with the pensieve. It can’t be in Floo fire. Just say ‘Malfoy Manor’ and you’ll arrive in our foyer.”

He waited until she gave a quick nod, spun on the spot and disappeared with a modest crack.

Hermione grabbed a handful of Floo powder, stepped into the fireplace and said clearly,

“Malfoy Manor.”

She arrived to find him setting the Pensieve on a tea table as his mother entered, probably having heard him apparate.

“Welcome to my home, Miss Granger,” greeted Narcissa, bowing her head politely.

“Thank you,” Hermione replied, setting the books down and dusting off the robes that she had pulled on over her jeans and tshirt before Flooing over. 

“Will you have some tea?”

“That’s very kind of you, Mrs Malfoy.” 

“Could you have Wipsy bring it to the library, Mother? We’re still working.”

“Of course, dear.”

“Um, there’s also some things we needed to ask you, Mother. After dinner?”

Narcissa looked inquiringly at her son and nodded. He turned to Hermione.

‘You’ll stay for dinner, Granger?”

“Oh, I-” stumbled Hermione, put on the spot.

“Potter and Weasley usually join us for dinner after consultations. We could discuss the incident with my mother afterwards.”

“I’d be delighted,” Hermione answered graciously, as Narcissa gave a small encouraging smile.

“I’ll show you the library, Granger.” Draco moved to pick up the stack of books, but Hermione had waved her wand and they levitated off the table, zooming towards the door, waiting for them to follow. 

Draco grinned and started after them, Hermione just behind him.

…

Harry and Ron arrived to find both Hermione and Draco seated comfortably in the library, surrounded by various piles of book, stacked according to relevance and topic by Hermione. 

“There,” she pointed to a small free bit of carpet, signalling where to put the tombs and documents they had managed to snatch from their department. 

“So, how are we doing this?” Ron asked, emptying his arms into the allotted section and sitting on a nearby couch. Harry sat on the other end and peered over Hermione’s shoulder at the tomb she was pouring through. 

“Hey, isn’t that her?” he asked, referring to the illustration of a willowy figure with elvish features in the book she was reading.

“I think so. I can’t be sure until I read some more.”

“Let me see,” Draco said, looking up from a pile of diaries and journals belonging to his ancestors from around the same era.

Hermione pushed the book forward to the center of the table and they all looked at the illustration. The woman or fey or whatever she was, peered haughtily at them and closed her eyes, her hands resting on a tree trunk near her, which slowly began to bloom and grow upward, fruit suddenly hanging aplenty from it’s branches. Plucking the ripe fruit, she bit into it, her sharp incisors bared menacingly for a split second before descending into the soft flesh.

“It could be any fairy, they all look pretty much the same to me,” Ron said, shrugging.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Don’t they teach feature recognition in Auror training? But, I agree. This could be her, but I can’t be sure. It’s just not a good enough drawing.”

The creature, who had ignored them up till this point, gave her a sharp look, then drew a long finger along the bark of the tree which shook slightly and opened up. The creature climbed into the newly created hollow without looking back, the trunk closing after her.

“I think you’ve offended her,” Harry muttered.

Hermione sighed and flipped the page. 

“It’s full of folklore and bits of poetry. Pretty badly written poetry. I don’t know how much is based on fact. There’s a bit about how faires steal little witches before they turn three and how they’re never seen again. Most probably to frighten little children.”

‘I’ve found a useful bit here I think,” Draco said, putting the journal he was reading forward. “This passage here,” he said, pointing.

“This night shalt seeth me bound with Kata. Giuliano shall doth the de'd. He giveth confidence the blood bind shall force mine own family's acceptance. May t beest as he sayeth. How mine own dearest Kata hast did suffer! After tonight nay one shall dare deny the lady is a Malfoi, n'r showeth disrespect, f'r i shalt beshrew those folk into slimy worms f'r daring so.”

“Kata being Kata Báthory de Somlyó,” Draco added helpfully, as they all stared uncomprehendingly at the passage.

“Seems like a lovely man. Bit hotheaded.” Ron commented, amused. “Reminds me of you, Harry.”

Hermione snorted as Harry cuffed Ron over the head.

“More than a bit.” Draco replied, ignoring the roughhousing. “It’s the diary of István Malfoi. I’ve skipped a bit ahead. They have three children, András, Sigmond and János. He had several, extremely graphically described affairs and has Kata murdered so he could marry another ‘great love’, so he’s killed by his eldest son, András to avenge his mother. András had a daughter and she marries, losing the family name. The second son dies in an unrelated duel without marrying, and the third son goes on to marry...,” He paused to check another journal. “...Sofia Kenduffy. They have a son who they name István, after his father.”

“Guess he doesn’t mind the wife murdering as much,” Ron said, snorting.

“I don’t know. Might have just been tradition. There’s about five people named István, it’s bloody confusing.”

“But the point is, your ancestor made a blood bind to the Báthory line. And there might be another Báthory descendant without the name along the line, as well.” Hermione said, her eyes lighting up at having discovered a piece of the puzzle.

“Why’d she suffer, though? I thought the Báthory family was pureblood as well. Why was she disrespected so much he had to marry her in secret?” Harry asked.

“Still working on that part. István doesn’t mention what it is outright, just alludes to it a lot. It must have been common knowledge at the time.”

“If there’s been a scandal, someone has to have mentioned it somewhere. We just have to know what we’re looking for so we don’t miss it,” Hermione said, determinedly. 

“I bet these journals are filled with old scandals,” Ron moaned. “Aunt Muriel goes on about some scandal or other every time we see her and I’ve never heard the same story twice.”

“He’s right. I’ve read loads already,” Draco agreed, nodding his head knowingly. “Before the Ministry was established, the Wizarding World was wild. Half of the stuff I read is illegal now, and the other half should be.”

Ron flipped open an old Malfoy journal, only for it to cough a cloud of dust into his eyes and then snap itself shut on his fingers.

“Ouch!”

“Only for Malfoy eyes,” Malfoy explained, grinning. “You’re lucky you had no malicious intent. I don’t think that’s the worst of it. No Malfoy would trust their secrets to a simple curse like that. It’s probably a default for children or something.”

“Lucky me,” Ron muttered, massaging his fingers.

“So, we need to find the Báthory family scandal. One that’s big enough to affect their next generations,” Hermione listed off, trying to get back on track. “Or it might just be a cousin running off with a muggle.”

“I don’t think so,” Draco replied. “Not to be harsh, but they would just murder the family member that ran off. It might be a scandal, but not one big enough to shame the family generations later.”

Hermione frowned, but then nodded.

“You’re right. Fine, let’s put that aside for now.” She pulled a large scroll out from under her chair. “I found this. An account of a duel between several wizards and witches where three members allegedly had their magic melded.”

She tapped the scroll with her wand, making it unfold and pin its corners to the surface of the table.

“Handy,” remarked Harry, trying to read the faded script.

“They were siblings. It says they attained their power through sacrificing a child who hadn’t yet learned to control her magic, though this account may be biased. It refers to the siblings as ‘evil’, ‘monsters’, ‘power- hungry’ throughout the entire script.”

“Maybe it’s written by Rita Skeeter’s great great uncle,” Ron said, snickering.

“Anyway, it describes their magical power as multiplied by three, but I don’t think that kind of thing can be measured. Or maybe…” Hermione quickly scrawled onto a corner of the nearest parchment they were using to take notes.

“Concentrate, Hermione,” interrupted Ron.

“Um, yeah, sorry. So, basically their spells had power that the writer had never seen before. He writes here, ‘Not a single curse couldst reacheth those folk, the spawns of Hecate herself. All who is't cameth ere those siblings hath met a most gruesome fate. But they hath killed a witch most dear to the barkeep yond gaveth those folk poison'd wine to bray out their victory and hence to their own end they didst drinketh.”

“Hecate?” asked Harry.

“She was a famous greek witch, a goddess in muggle mythology. There are two schools of thought on her. Some consider her a pioneer of witchcraft and magical healing. Others demonize her for those same things, saying she was a necromancer. Maybe there’s a reference to her binding magic. We should look into that,” answered Hermione.

“So they were poisoned. Is that all that’s mentioned about magic binding?” asked Draco.

“So far. It seems to be a taboo topic. There are some mentions of wizards and witches trying some dubious method or other and failing miserably.”

“If only we were so lucky,” muttered Draco.

“Magic binding?”

Narcissa stood at the door looking at her son in shock.

“What do you mean, ‘If only you were so lucky’?” She asked again as they all stared at her, startled.

“Mother, we were going to explain everything after dinner.” Draco answered, guiltily.

“Do you mean, you know about magical binding?” Hermione suddenly asked. Draco kicked her ankle.

“I- oh, Draco. If the Ministry hears of this-”

“No one knows, Mother. Only us.”

“So it’s true, then.”

“It’s less damning that you imagine, Mother.”

She gave him a long look, and then sighed.

“Come to dinner.”

Draco silently took his mother’s hand and led her towards the dining table, leaving the others to follow.

“Was that a conversation, or was I just unconscious half the time?” muttered Ron.

“Honestly, they’re weirder than the Dursleys,” Harry answered, shrugging.

“Well, better get this over with,” Ron said, following Draco out the door. “I’m starving.”


	5. Chapter 5

Dinner was a tense, but delicious affair. Afterwards, they all shuffled awkwardly back into the library, silent, waiting for Draco to make the first move. 

Moving the furniture with his wand so that Hermione’s meticulous piles would be undisturbed, Draco led his mother to a seat. They all followed suit and listened as Draco explained to his mother what exactly had happened in their last assignment.

“So, we thought we’d research exactly what this means for us, and if there’s a way out, then we can do it, no harm done, none the wiser,” Draco finished.

Hermione, Ron and Harry all nodded emphatically to show their approval of Draco’s monologue thus far.

Narcissa took her son’s hand and traced the newly healed scar.

“This is not as simple an affair as you think,” Narcissa said, her eyes meeting each of theirs in turn and lingering on Hermione’s.

“Binding the magic of two magicians is considered dark magic, and though your binding may not be as such, there are still certain implications you must be aware of.”

She rose and went to a far corner of the library, leaving the four of them to look at each other, eyes wide.

“Mother is a bit of a historian. She’ll know where the information we’re looking for is,” Draco told the other three.

“A historian, really?” Hermione asked. “Is that where you got your interest in artifacts and Wizarding history?”

“Mostly. She’s actually written a book about present wizarding customs originating from French wizards. My grandmother’s family, Rosier, was from France, so-”

He was interrupted by his mother’s reappearance, several large tombs levitating behind her. She sat down again, the books falling neatly into a pile at her side.

“The family Báthory has a blood soaked history that has stained it’s name. That’s why even though they are an old pureblood family, they are not as well known. The name has also died out around 400 years ago, the descendants marrying or dying.” She opened a book to show them a government record of a seizure of Báthory family assets and property, dating back to the 1500s.

“A wizarding nobility’s property was seized?” Hermione asked, trying to make out the text. “That’s unheard of, especially in that time.”

“So, you have an idea of the infamy that must have caused such an event,” Narcissa replied. “It was a favorite story of ours, when we were children, the tale of the bloody duchess of Hungary, Erzsébet Báthory.”

They all listened intently as Narcissa settled down to tell the story,

“The Báthory family was originally from Hungary, though later their descendants would move to other regions, as Europe’s borders were redrawn, and as they tried to escape the notoriety their surname would produce later due to the acts of Erzsébet Báthory. But before I tell you about her, you must know about this fey.”

She pulled another tomb from under the pile.

“This is just a book recording magical events of the past that are now, for lack of a better word, extinct. Our relationship with the Fey, Centaurs, Ents-”

“Ents? They don’t exist!” Ron exclaimed, laughingly. “That’s just a children’s story. My mum used to tell us about them.”

“What are Ents?” asked Harry, unconsciously looking towards Hermione for the answer.

She looked back at Narcissa before answering,

“They’re legendary ancient beings. Tree guardians, to be exact. But, I haven’t read any accounts with proof of them actually existing..” she trailed off. 

“There is much about magic that the modern wizard has forgotten.” Narcissa replied, a little harshly. “But, even after the ordeal you have just witnessed, I would have expected a more open mind.”

Draco rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“Mother, just, what about the Ents?”

She hmmped, and returned to the book in front of her.

“Here.”

She pointed to a heading. Draco, the closest, read aloud for them.

“Magical bonding in wartime. Magical families have ruled over muggle lands in the early years of the European continent. Though not openly magical, the circles of influence ran in favour of those with power and Wizards took advantage of the opportunity. The Habsburg monarchy is one such great family that was rumoured to have used magical binding to gain a stronghold in parts of Hungary and Austria. All wizards did not hold such power, and to gain it, records imply the family Habsburg used this craft to win against their wizarding brothers and sisters. Though many accused them of black magic and treachery, in the end, slanderous rumours were not enough to undermine the power the Habsburgs had accumulated. Many feared them. Stories of mudbl-, umm, muggleborns,” Draco cleared his throat, then continued after a quick glance at Hermione. “And halfbloods dying, their bodies found months after in the woods soon spread through the countryside. It is said Maximillian II, one of the heads of the family, once confirmed that magical bonding was used to gain magical power, but not through black magic. On being asked about a dead halfblood from a poor family neighbouring his castle, he replied that the family had no need of halfblood magic when their magic had been blessed by the Fey.” 

Draco stopped reading and looked up at his mother. She motioned for him to continue.

“The family branched out into Switzerland, Transylvania and other regions, but their power did not decrease, only adding fuel to the rumours, though none dared to confront them publicly, until Erzsébet of the family name Báthory.”

He flipped to the next page.

“It ends there.” He looked at his mother, frustrated.

“It doesn’t matter. Everything we need to know is in these books, but I will tell you what they say to save time. Erzsébet Báthory and her story is familiar to me and I suppose most Purebloods of a certain generation. It was told to us as children. I will tell you the story that is found in most books. Erzsébet was a Hungarian noblewoman, a witch of fantastic power and a great beauty. She married and she and her husband carried out the affairs of their people with care. Soon after they married, came the Long War or the Thirteen Years’ War against the Turks. Her husband Ferenc Nádasdy was called away to lead a flank of the Hungarian army, while she was entrusted with the protection of their estate, which was in a strategically significant position. Knowing that they would need all the protection magic could offer, Erzsébet shared with her husband the family secret of binding their magic to each other. It was said they sacrificed a servant girl for the purpose, but no records remain. They parted and both were victorious in battle. But when Ferenc returned years later, he would find Erzsébet a changed woman. Her thirst for the power magic offered had grown to desperate proportions. She had killed many a wizard and witch to gain their magical power, and each time, it only awakened in her a thirst for more.” 

Narcissa paused dramatically and the flames in the library seemed to flicker ominously. Ron looked nervously at the others. Draco looked stoically at his mother, Hermione was leaning in, her face scrunched as she hung onto each word, Harry just looked more confused by the minute. Narcissa continued,

“During the time of the war, not much notice had been paid to a few more dead, but now people were beginning to talk. Erzsébet could not be convinced to stop her actions, and with each death, her bloodlust and powerlust grew. Soon after, Ferenc died by dragon pox and Erzsébet could not be controlled any longer. The dungeons filled with bodies that her fearful servants, scared of her madness and power, dragged and hid after she was done draining their magic.”

“Draining their magic?” Hermione interrupted. “I thought-”

“I’ll come to that,” Narcissa explained. “I did say this was the common scary story told. Anyway, when the deaths couldn’t be hid any longer, she was found out and taken to trial. She was already a powerful witch, potent spells had to be used to bind her and she was cast into a windowless chamber in her own home, where she died soon after, alone and friendless, all her magic powerless to help her.”

They all waited.

“Is that it?” Ron asked, confused.

“Not quite,” Narcissa replied. “You see, this story had always fascinated my sister, Bellatrix. She was quite obsessed with the story from her childhood. Closeted as we were, the tale of a powerful witch, isolated and yet feared by all, resonated deeply with her. She began to hunt for any information about Erzsébet and the Báthory family. She wanted the power that Erzsébet had. The power to drain the magic from another being, making herself stronger. I had always been interested in Wizarding history and I helped her, naive as I was back then.” Narcissa gave a self deprecating grimace. “I had only just left school, and was travelling the continent, learning about Wizarding history. My sister was still seeking information about Erzsébet, but it was by pure luck I stumbled upon this.” She leaned down to pick up a small dusty leather bound book. “I had been researching Erzsébet’s trial and this had been used as evidence. It deteriorates into rambling as she slowly loses her mind, which was why, I’m sure, they only used the parts where she writes about the murders. I had not taken it seriously, and after reading it, I gave it to my sister. I don’t know what she made of it, as later our lives would never be the same. But, I still have it.”

She passed the book to Hermione.

“Is this-”

“It’s her diary. The diary of the Duchess Erzsébet Báthory.”


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione was in her study, scribbling onto a parchment, scrutinizing a page in the diary she had received from Narcissa Malfoy. 

Tap. Tap. TAP.

She glanced at the window and waved her wand, letting in the owl who had just interrupted her reverie. Removing the small scroll, she unravelled it just as the owl hopped back onto the windowsill and left. Hermione, not paying attention to the owl, read the small note.

Granger,

I apologize for the inconvenience, but I will be stopping by in five minutes to discuss some important work related documents. Kindly open your floo.

Draco Malfoy

Hermione looked confused. Work related documents? Draco Malfoy? It must be about the binding affair, but she was at a loss as to why he would be so obscure in a note. Maybe he thought the Ministry was reading his mail? Maybe they were actually reading his mail. She threw the note in the fire and got up to make some tea for her unexpected guest, saving her questions for the wizard himself.

Hermione had just set out some chocolate biscuits that Ginny really liked, when Draco Malfoy popped up in her fireplace.

Draco shook off the soot he’d accumulated and vanished it, trying to buy himself some time as he thought about what he was going to tell her.

“Good evening, Granger.”

“Erm- Good evening, Malfoy,” Hermione replied, awkwardly. “Have a biscuit?”

Draco sat down and waited as Hermione poured out the tea and sat opposite him.

“So, how’s the diary coming?”

“It’s actually extremely interesting. She only occasionally writes entries, but all the important stuff is there. It’s pretty clear she’s batty, but there’s just so much to sort through. She’s enchanted it to contain every single diary entry she’s ever written, so as to not have to write in multiple books, I suppose.”

“Have you gotten far?”

“Well, I’m skimming. The language and print’s difficult to comprehend so I’ve decided to transcribe the parts with information we need so it’s easier.”

“Hmm,” Draco replied, nodding stoically. “Everything fine at the MInistry?”

Hermione looked at him curiously.

“I haven’t had any reason to suppose otherwise. I’ve handed in my report and answered all their questions about our accident, just the way we decided to. Harry hasn’t said anything about any suspicious inquiries. Is that why the note you sent was so...vague?”

“No. My report was received without many questions. It’s not the Ministry. It’s something else.”

Hermione put down her teacup and gave him her undivided attention.

“I had some interesting correspondence two days ago. This appeared on my desk.”

He pulled out of the folds of his robes, a small metal disk, about the size of his palm. He placed it before Hermione. 

She studied it carefully. On one side was a three headed woman, one head facing forward, while the other two faced each side. On either ends was a torch, the light in the room reflecting onto them so as to seem they were almost actually lit.

She picked it up. It was quite heavy. Turning it over, she saw several lines of runic text carved into it.

“Darkness is loss of eyesight?” she said confusedly, roughly translating the odd runes.

Draco laughed, leaning over to view the talisman in Hermione’s hand.

“I read it as ‘darkness is blindness’, My Mother almost cried and said she was going to write to Professor Babbling.”

Hermione snorted, remembering their eccentric old Runes professor. Draco pointed at the fifth rune.

“See there? The long line moving upwards and the dot over this rune? It’s an older script, sort of like runic cursive. My mother translated it as, ‘Darkness is only the failure to see’.”

“Hmm, sounds better,” replied Hermione, thoughtfully. “Also, makes more sense, I suppose. What is it, though?”

Draco said nothing, but took the object carefully out of her hand, placed it on the table, and taking out his wand, pointed it at the disk, muttering,

“Specialis revelio.”

The disk slowly started spinning, gaining speed until it was a blur. Hermione looked up warily at Draco, eyes wide, but his gaze was still fixed on the spinning disk.

Slowly, three ghostly figures emerged from the surface of the metal, small, almost like a projection, but more solid. They were dressed in long white robes with dark capes over their shoulders, hoods hiding their faces. One of the figures spoke, in a thick, unfamiliar accent.

“We are the Sect of Hecate. We seek you out to impart some knowledge that may be to your interest.”

Another of the figures spoke,

“We know of the binding, and of the witch you have chosen, Draco Malfoy, of Báthory blood.”

The last one now spoke,

“This shall lead you to us, should you choose to hear our words, in three days time. Bring the witch. We give you our word, no harm shall come to either of you.”

All three of them raised their arms and then descended back down into the metal object.

“The Sect of Hecate?” asked Hermione, worriedly. “How would anyone know what happened?”

“Maybe the fae was a member of the sect?” answered Draco. “Old druid sects have been known to even include Centaurs, according to my mother.”

“Does she know anything else?”

“Well, that’s what we’ve been researching for the past two days-”

“Two days? That means, is the day tonight? You’re only telling me tonight?!” Hermione said shrilly, looking more panicked by the second.

“Calm down, Granger. This is the end of the second day. We still have a full day.”

“Oh, what a relief,” muttered Hermione, sarcastically.

“Listen,” Draco said, “This sect supposedly is hundreds of years old, and lives in secrecy, apart from the modern magical world. They communicate with magical creatures and perform ancient magical rituals according to old beliefs and customs, like replenishing their magic from the earth.”

“Replenishing magic?”

“Yeah, they’re supposedly extremely powerful, they don’t need magical instruments like wands to channel their magic, and some of their casting is so powerful, multiple magical beings are needed for the spell. Then, they replenish their magic from the earth.”

“But, how have we not learned about them before? Or asked their help in the war?”

“Well, no one has been really sure of their existence. Everything I’ve just told you are rumours and hearsay. This-” he held up the disk, “-is unheard of.”

“So, what do we do?” Hermione asked, her hair quietly spiking with panic. He looked apprehensively at it, before patting her hand awkwardly and handing her a chocolate biscuit.

“Here. Don’t worry, maybe you’ll have better luck if you look in the Ministry Arch-”

He was interrupted by another loud tapping noise. Hermione jumped, almost choking on the biscuit, and upset her cold tea over the table.

“It’s an owl, I’ll get it,” Draco said, getting up quickly before the tea reached him.

Hermione grabbed her wand, vanished the spilled tea and straightened up the table.

“I’m sorry, this is all just a bit much, on top of the Báthory fiasco,” she apologized, trying to calm her hair down. 

“Don’t worry, I had a bit of a panic before Mother made me drink some calming draught,” he paused thoughtfully as he retrieved the letter. “Maybe I should have brought some.”

He handed her the scroll. She tore it open, read it and handed it to him.

“It’s Harry.”

He read it as she went to open the floo again.

Hermione,

Hope you’re not busy. Got to talk to you. Ron and I are coming over. Floo’s open, right? 

Harry

Draco heard Harry and Ron arrive in the next room.

“Sorry, Hermione. Only, we’ve been digging and found something you should see.”

“Is anything wrong? I thought we were going to meet on Friday night, anyway.”

“Good evening,” Draco said, as they entered.

“Oh,” Harry said, “Hey. Well, I suppose it’s more convenient you’re already here.”

Ron shrugged, pulled some scrolls out of his pocket and laid them out on the table as he grabbed a few biscuits.

“Did you find anything, then?” he asked Draco.

“Not quite,” Draco answered. 

Hermione and Draco explained about Draco’s unexpected correspondance with an ancient secretive cult that apparently knew about their lives, and then played the message for them.

Ron took the now silent amulet and studied the engraving carefully. Harry spoke first,

“Hecate? Isn’t that the historical witch you told us about the other day? The witch who people thought was evil?” he asked.

“And, others believed her to be an important influence in modern magical healing,” finished Hermione. “So, we can’t demonize these people just for following Hecate.”

“Hmm, I wonder what sounds more likely, a group of fanatical wood nymphs who are spying on wizards, or a society of healers?” he asked, sarcastically. “So, tomorrow is when they expect you to meet?”

Draco nodded. Harry turned to Hermione.

“What do you think? Have you heard of them before?”

“No, I only know what Malfoy’s told us.” She turned to Draco. “What about you?”

Draco paused as if considering, before answering.

“I think we should go. I mean, we don’t know anything about what just happened to us, and I think these people might have answers.”

Hermione looked at him, then slowly nodded her agreement.

“They did say they wouldn’t harm us. But, even if it is dangerous, I think accepting is a better option. I mean, if they wanted to hurt us, I’m sure they could, even now. They sent us an invitation saying they have information. I think we need to hear what they have to say.”

Ron scowled.

“I agree that we need information. But, we’re going to have no idea how you’re going, where you’re going, no way to give you back up if you both need it.”

“We could use something like the DA galleons,” replied Harry. “ But, before we plan that, we have something to show you both, too.”

He looked at Ron, who leaned over to unravel the scrolls he had brought over.

“Well, after what your mum said about your crazy aunt being obsessed with the bloodthirsty duchess, I thought, ‘well if I was crazy and obsessed with something, where would I look?’”

Draco grunted irritably, but looked interested all the same. Ron continued,

“So, I did some digging, visited some old portraits, and then,” Ron paused dramatically, grinning. “I sneaked into the Department of Mysteries and stole this.”

“You what? Ron!” Hermione gasped. “I can’t believe you! We’re supposed to be acting inconspicuously, not committing felonies!”

“Don’t worry, Harry covered for me. And, I used gemino,” Ron replied, looking pleased with himself, regardless. “Look, if there’s any bit of truth to this duchess story and if this was common knowledge, then of course the Department of Mysteries is going to look into it. I knew there’d be a record of blood sacrifices or blood binding somewhere in there. I’ll bet your aunt would’ve killed me for these, Malfoy.”

He smirked at Draco. Draco pulled a bit of the parchment forward to peer at it more closely, and replied,

“I’ll bet she would’ve killed you for breathing, Weasley. What are these?”

“How did you even find anything? The last time we went in there, it was a moving labyrinth,” asked Hermione.

“I may have cnfuned smone,” Ron muttered, quickly.

“You what?” Hermione’s head shot up.

“Okay, I had to confound one person, but it was either that or imperio, so-”

Harry hurriedly intervened at the sight of Hermione taking a deep breath, ready to burst.

“Look, it’s fine. I was there, there were no problems. We cleared our traces, it’s all good.”

Draco, who had been ignoring them and instead reading the scroll, suddenly paled and tugged Hermione’s shoulder.

“You should read this, Granger.”

Hermione quickly read where Draco was pointing and gave a sharp inhale of breath. 

“Are you sure this-”

“Read it from the start, Granger.”

She carefully perused the document. Then she sat it down and looked at the three men staring back at her.

“Samhein is November. This is August. I’m going to die in three months?”


	7. Chapter 7

“Samhein is in November. This is August. I’m going to die in three months?”

Hermione looked at the line of neat lettering, probably noted down by some unassuming unspeakable, mildly pleased with this new piece of information they had gained. If only they knew. 

She started hyperventilating, dark spots started circling over the periphery of her vision. Birds? Ominous spirits? Her heart squeezed and tugged within her, furiously dancing to the rhythm of the buzzing in her ears. The shadowy spirits seemed to hone in on her, and then she lost consciousness. 

When she awoke, she was lying on her sofa, and Harry was holding her head up while Draco tilted in a smooth cool liquid she knew was Calming draught. She swallowed and sat up, which began a cacophony of soft murmurs for her to lie down. She leaned back on the sofa and sighed, the thudding in her chest slowing. 

“You should finish this.” Draco extended the small tumbler containing the Calming draught. When she looked at him without responding, he gently took her hand and placed the glass in it. Her nerves tingled and soothed with the touch of his cool fingers, his magic extending into hers. 

He looked at her. He’d noticed it, too. He left his hand on hers. She felt the familiar breeze of a cooling charm over her, and saw Ron’s wand glide over her shoulder. Harry had disappeared into the kitchen. 

Hermione slipped her hand away from Draco and sipped on the draught, feeling silly. Still, concern over the revelations of the last hour still weighed on her mind.

“I’m sorry for waiting to tell you about the sect’s message,” Draco said quietly, into the room.

She harrumphed in reply, eyes still on the now empty tumbler in her hand. She set it down, just as Harry walked in, engulfed in the scent of chocolate.

“Remus’s favourite remedy,” he said simply, as he placed a cup of thick hot chocolate before her.

“Thanks, Harry,” she replied. “I’m fine now, you guys,” she said as they all stared at her apprehensively. “Really.”

“Well, I mean, these are just some notes by some ministry worker. We don’t know if it’s really true or where he got his information, “ Ron reasoned.

“But, how will we ever figure out if this is accurate information, and where he obtained it, or if there are alternatives?” Hermione asked, looking defeated. “This is all just too much. I can feel my magic changing. It’s affecting my spells, my moods.”

They looked at Draco inquiringly. He nodded, acknowledging her statement.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, “I know this affects you, too. I just, I feel like I’m not in control, she said, sounding defeated. “The fey addressed you, this invitation was addressed to you, the notes Ron found say that ‘the conferrer’ will slowly weaken and die by Samhain. I know that must be me, not you. I feel so powerless. My life isn’t in my hands anymore.”

“It’s only been a few days. We’ve found out so much. We’ll definitely find an answer before then,” Harry replied, trying to assuage her.

Draco was rereading Ron’s purloined notes. 

“If you’re the conferrer, why have we both been feeling stronger? You have felt that, haven’t you?”

Hermione nodded.

“Maybe it’s different for us,” he speculated. “Maybe there are more ways of binding magic. We read about Erzebeth killing her victims. If they were to die of their own accord, why bother killing them?”

“I suppose we don’t have any other choice but to find out before Samhain,” Hermione replied.

“We definitely will,” Ron said determinedly.

“Right now, we need a plan. We only have one day to prepare for the Sect and we need more information about them,” Harry postulated. 

“And a plan to keep them in contact,” Ron added. “Something like the DA galleons, that you can keep on you, or in your hand.”

“I’ll work on that,” replied Hermione. “We should probably have a portkey, too. Just in case.”

Draco nodded. “I’ll take care of that.”

The four made plans and decided to meet back at Malfoy Manor the next morning, it being a weekend. It seemed the safest place in case members of the sect decided to pay them a visit instead.

As Draco, then Ron left, Harry lingered back.

He sat down on the couch next to Hermione, and stretched out his legs.

“Hey.”

“Ugh, Harry,” she huffed out. She leaned back hard into the sofa, her body partially engulfed in the soft cushion. “I can’t help it. It frustrates me so much. Whatever I do, it’ll never be good enough for the magical world.”

Harry leaned forward, puzzled.

“That’s what you’re worried about?”

She half laughed, half sobbed, “I know, it’s silly of me.” 

He put his hand over her shoulder and pulled her in for a hug, as she hastily brushed off the small trickle that escaped from the corner of her eye. 

“It’s not silly. It’s just, I never thought of you as being bothered by what idiotic blood purists say.”

“I’m not. Well, not most of the time,” she muttered into his sweater. “I want to not be bothered. But, this time, maybe because it feels like I’m being compared to Malfoy, like I’m back at Hogwarts again..” she trailed off.

“Maybe it has more to do with family blood in this case, not pure blood,” Harry reasoned.

“Maybe,” she murmured.

“Even if it is, it isn’t right. But this is all from so many years ago, Hermione. It’s changed. We’ve changed things, you have.”

“It’s not that, Harry. I love my job, but there’s always a part of me that’s asking, in the back of my mind, if the reason why I’m in this backroom buried under dusty shelves instead of out with you all, is because I’m muggleborn.”

Harry was silent. Hermione went on,

“I know you all consider me a know- it- all, but the thing is, I shouldn’t have to be the best in everything to be equal to a Malfoy or a Nott.”

“I don’t think anyone who counts, thinks that you are equal to a Malfoy, Hermione.” He replied, patting her shoulder. “You’re clearly his superior.”

She gave a half hearted chuckle.

“Thanks.”

“You are, Hermione. I know this is a stressful situation to be in. I hate that we’re so blind going into this. I kick myself everyday for asking you to come along for that mission,” Harry said.

“No, don’t. I was excited about it. No one thought something as unpredictable as this would happen, Harry.”

“Just, it’s not your fault. Just keep being yourself, and being better than us all, for yourself.”

Hermione laughed.

“Not to prove that you're better than any pureblood,” he finished. 

She sighed.

“You’re right, Harry. I’m just more comfortable being in the know, you know?”

“We’re going to fix this, Hermione,” he said, reaching for his hot chocolate again.

“I know,” she replied, holding her hand up weakly to signify to grab her cup as well.

To her surprise, her cup glided forwards to meet her.

“Hey!” Harry laughed. “How did you do that?”

She sat up straight. She looked at the cup in her hand, then slowly at Harry.

His smile slowly turned serious.

“What, what is it?” he questioned, puzzled.

“I don’t know how I did that,” she answered.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, Harry. I think, I...I can feel it inside me.”

“It?” he asked, alarmed.

“You know how you feel your magic inside you? It’s some new power inside me, it’s strange but also familiar, somehow.” she tried to explain. “I think it’s Malfoy. His magic, I mean.”

“Is that why you both can heal each other?” Harry asked.

“I think it’s more than just healing. I think we share each other’s magical force. We both have that combined power between us.”

She tried to levitate her glass again. They both watched as the porcelain glass slowly rotated, three centimeters above Hermione’s sweaty hands. She slammed the glass into the table and shot up, pillows tumbling haphazardly onto the floor.

“Oh, dear Merlin.”

Harry gazed wide eyed at her.

“Fucking Merlin, is right!”

“I don’t need my wand.”

“You don’t need a wand,” Harry repeated, excited.

She flicked her finger, and the pillows on the sofa all rose and fell onto Harry.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, laughing. He kicked away a nearby pillow.

“You have to be careful about that.” He advised, suddenly serious. 

“I know,” Hermione murmured, feeling a little scared, yet exhilarated. “Let me try it out now, though.”

She brushed her hands through the air and it suddenly was filled with levitating objects. Harry clung suddenly to the sofa, as it rose two feet into the air.

“Oh, it’s dusty under there,” Hermione noted, and with another gust of air, the dust rose and fell neatly into the nearby bin.

“This is much more comfortable than a broom,” Harry said, as he stretched out on the hovering couch, his legs dangling off the edge. Hermione laughed as she spun the sofa upside down, dropping Harry unceremoniously onto the floor.

“Think fast!” she yelled, and Harry spun out onto the rug, while the sofa descended again. He propped himself up and glared accusingly at her.

“I’m being a terrible hostess,” she joked.

“No,” Harry reassured her. “An obstacle course before dinner always gets my appetite up.”

He jumped up onto the sofa again, and reached for a biscuit.

Hermione turned to the flames in the fireplace, making them simmer in the coals, then rise up, out of the logs, like a rope. They circled round her, making her eyes glint with their reflection. Harry, watching her, felt a little tug of fear inside him. He couldn’t help but think that they were, both literally and figuratively, playing with fire. He saw Hermione look at him through the rings of fire around her and he knew by her expression, she had had the same thought.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione kicked off her flats and stretched out her toes. She was sitting in the study in Malfoy Manor, surrounded by rolls of parchment and old tomes. Draco had ceded the study to her when she had arrived early Saturday morning, and had taken care to leave her undisturbed, even having cups of hot tea and biscuits appear randomly on a nearby stool. It had been a calming morning, even though there was an undercurrent of adrenaline keeping her on edge. She pulled the book she was perusing onto her lap forward, and reached for a quill. 

She was startled by a sharp rap on the door. It opened, and Draco peered in, a few books under his arm.

“Would you like to join my mother and I for lunch, or would you like it brought here?”

Hermione sat up and pulled a heavy book forward, opening it to a bookmarked page. 

“I’d love to, thanks. But, come here for a second, would you? Take a look at this and tell me what you think.”

Draco strolled in, placed his books on the side of the desk, and leaned over her to see what she had discovered.

“It’s a thesis on the enchantment theory behind magical contracts.”

“Oh, I remember that one. Pretty useful book, I have to admit.”

“It really is,” Hermione admitted. “I’m going to have to borrow it one day. But look at this.” She pointed to a paragraph about Unbreakable Vows.

To ensure the demise of another witch or wizard through a charm is a complex endeavor. The Unbreakable Vow has many elements to take into consideration: the terms of agreement between parties, the timeframe in which one party delivers on their promise, and the precise wording of the Vow and how it is interpreted by each party and their magical core. The third seems the most inscrutable. Yet, it is the most crucial and decisive in determining the outcome. 

Magical cores, the source of our individual magical power, are described by the ancient philosopher and lawmaker Gargi Vachaknavi in her work ‘Yoga Yajnavalkya’ as ‘the free spirit residing within the soul, acting on laws beyond our comprehension’. It has been accepted within magical philosophy that Magical power exists with its own set of indelible laws, which many Magiphilosophers have spent their lives trying to decipher and record. 

It is clear that the Unbreakable Vow bases it’s magic on these laws. Though, in modern times, magic similar to this Vow may seem too close to Dark Magic for comfort, olden magical brethren embraced them, even basing societal laws on their intrinsic magical morality. Many, like the possibility of a broken promise ending in death, may seem barbaric to our contemporary mindset. This principle has even led to theories on whether magic, in and of itself, has elemental properties that may be described as Dark; a topic beyond the scope of this work.

Draco nodded his head as he read.

“I’ve actually found a book on magical pagan communities and their rituals. It mentions something similar, and I was thinking about how binding magic may work on a set of rules that may make sense to them. The Sect of Hecate, I mean.”

“Let’s hope they have answers and not more problems for us,” Hermione muttered.

“Lunch, then?” Draco asked, just as Hermione picked up another heavily bookmarked volume.

“Oh, right.” She set it down. “There’s some other books I think you should have a look at too, though.”

“I have some for you, as well,” he replied, motioning to the small stack at the corner of the desk.

“Ah well, between the two of us, we may get a clear idea of what exactly it is we don’t know,” she joked, as they walked down towards the conservatory, where a small table was laid out with a beautiful, fresh garden salad, and luxuriously buttery looking toast Skagen.

Draco waved a hand and her chair slid out gracefully from the table. He glanced at her, an eyebrow slightly raised, as if in question. Hermione, perceiving his inquiry, sat down, then raised a hand, and the wine bottle on the table rose to pour white wine into both their glasses.

“When did you realize?” he asked.

“Yesterday night,” she answered.

“Yesterday afternoon,” he shrugged. “I’m curious about what else we can do.”

“Me, too,” Hermione admitted. “I was thinking we might figure out something more advantageous before tonight."

"I suppose we could try," Draco replied dubiously, "But, where would we start?"

As they both chewed thoughtfully, Narcissa came in, blustery but looking pleased. 

"So sorry to be late. Good afternoon, dear. Good afternoon, Ms Granger."

They both greeted her pleasantly, as she sat down beside Draco.

"I've had some wonderful luck," she exclaimed. 

They both looked at her expectantly. .

She reached into her robes and pulled out a silk handkerchief, and carefully unfolded it. Two glistening grey stones sat like miniature occamy eggs in the center of the blue cloth.

“They’re beautiful,” Hermione remarked. “But, what are they?”

“Summoning stones,” Narcissa replied excitedly. 

“Have they been carved?” asked Draco.

“No, not yet. We have to be careful about where we carve the heart.”

“The heart?” asked Hermione. 

“These are uncarved stones from the Bremen Mountains in Germany,” Draco explained. “They have magical properties that work similar to a portkey.”

“Have you heard the German fairytale, The King of the Golden Mountain?” asked Narcissa.

“I can’t recall. I may have,” Hermione replied.

“It’s also been called The Magic Ring.” explained Narciassa. “Without going into too much detail, it’s about a muggleborn wizard who was stolen by goblins when he was a child and through various adventures, ends up marrying a witch of the Brenan mountains, of Royal lineage. She betrays him by leaving him using a ring with a stone from the mountain, with summoning properties.”

“Usually, we carve a symbol or rune into a certain place, and the same symbol into the stone. The stone will always bring you back to the place you’ve carved the symbol, or the heart,” Draco added. “It’s better than a portkey, it can be used usually for generations. The charm usually isn’t affected by our modern charms, it’s much more elemental. It doesn’t fade with a single use. And, the Ministry can’t trace you, like with portkeys.”

“I’d love to try it out before tonight, “Hermione said, enthusiastically. “Where will you carve the heart?”

“I’ve been thinking about a few places,” Narcissa said. “I’m worried about having it inside the Manor. I don’t want access to our home to be available to anyone who happens to get their hands on the stone.”

She hurriedly finished the last of her sandwich.

“I was planning to owl Mr Potter. I’ll need his help with the carving. If you don't mind, Draco. I know you’re busy today.”

Draco shrugged. 

“He was planning to come over tonight, anyway. I don’t suppose he’ll mind.”

“Excellent,” Narcissa said, rising. “Hope you’ll excuse me. I think I’ll ask his opinion on the sites I’ve had in mind for the heart, as well. His auror’s eye will be useful.

Draco rolled his eyes as Narcissa swished away.

“She thinks Potter’s the most wonderful being on Merlin’s green earth.”

Hermione laughed. 

“He has that effect on mothers.”

“We should get back to work, I suppose.” Draco sighed as he finished his wine.

They got up to leave. Hermione, pausing by the door, remarked,

“I’ve been reading and researching about magic ever since I got my letter at eleven, but after these past few days, I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface.”

Draco nodded his head in agreement. 

“I’ve found books in our library that I never knew existed, and maybe would never have touched, if not for this.”

“But, even about the summoning stone. You seem to know so much more, just from general exposure from your parents and your heritage,” replied Hermione. “I can’t help being jealous.”

“I think I can thank my mother and father for that. They’ve always been very interested in magical history. Our holidays have always involved historical locations, visiting magical sites, hunting for magical artifacts,” Draco mused. “There’s always been a deep appreciation for all magic, be it new or olde, light or dark, in my family.”

They had reached the study and Draco held the door open. 

Hermione entered, and asked,

“Would you mind looking over a few more things I found? Maybe we should research together. I think we could work better and maybe plan our strategy for this evening.”

“Yes, I think it’s better to be over prepared,” Draco agreed. “And, even though I hate to admit it, we should probably ask for Potter and Weasley’s advice.”

Hermione laughed and ducked her head as Draco waved his hand towards the hallway, and a substantial stack of books flew from the library into the study. Hermione pulled up an extra armchair and several sheets of blank parchment, and they both got to work.

…

Harry and Narcissa trekked through the small clump of trees at the eastern side of the Malfoy estate, as they debated the merits of using the cellar as the heart of the summoning stones.

“I think I should feel uneasy if it were inside the manor, no matter how many protective enchantments were placed,” Narcissa remarked.

“I don’t think it should be too far away from the main house,” Harry replied. “Even though the grounds have protective enchantments, the wards on the house are extremely powerful, especially since they’re generations old, and restrengthened periodically.”

“That’s why I had the idea for it to be near the old oak. It’s centuries old, I think it must have been here even before the Malfoys settled here.” 

A small clearing led to the base of a magnificent oak tree, it’s branches weaving into all corners of the sky, it’s trunk stout and majestic. Harry placed his hand on the ancient wood and took a deep breath. He could feel powerful magic deep within the trunk, weaving through the branches, fluttering over the leaves, filling the air.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured.

Narcissa smiled as she too placed her hand on the great, ancient tree. 

“I’ve always felt peace when coming here. I don’t know exactly what charms and wards have been placed, but Lucius always told me that besides the Manor, this was the safest place on the grounds.”

Harry felt around the tree, feeling with his wand for the magical pulse he had become so adept at finding. He bent down and tapped a knot on the base with his wand, then reached up to grab a leaf. He traced over the green lines, muttering. He circled around the small clearing, over to a clump of shrubs with dark red berries. He picked one and sniffed it, before dropping it on the ground. Then, he examined a group of large boulders stacked haphazardly a little distance from the tree trunk. Weathered and stained with moss, they seemed inconspicuous enough. He puttered around them for a bit, feeling all around the rough stone.

Narcissa waited, expectantly. Nothing seemed to happen. 

Harry suddenly strode off towards a branch arching far out from the trunk and downwards, almost touching the ground. He jumped on it and slowly made his way up the tree. Narcissa, thoroughly dumbfounded by this behavior, kept silent.

When he had made his way up around seven meters or so, he stopped and leaned against a branch and closed his eyes for a few seconds.

“It’s amazing here,” he called down. “Do you want to come up?” 

“Did you climb up for the view?” Narcissa asked, taken by surprise at his question. 

“She told me too.”

“What?” Narcissa was starting to worry now.

“I’ll show you.” Harry lowered himself down with a Wingardium leviosa, then showed Narcissa the knot at the base where he had tapped his wand.

Narcissa timidly tapped on it. Nothing.

“No, don’t tap, pour,” Harry advised. “Pour a little of your magic into her.” 

Narcissa altered her gesture and tried to will her magic into the trunk. She felt a deep sigh rumble through her, from the ground. She could feel the earth whisper to her. It wasn’t any word specifically, but a consciousness she could suddenly interpret.

“I can feel it,” she said to Harry excitedly.

Harry grinned back. “You were right. This place is perfect. But we’ll have to carve the heart into her trunk. Stones nearby can be moved.”

“Can we do that,” Narcissa asked dubiously, wondering if carving a symbol into the tree would somehow hurt it.

“You’re the Malfoy. You’ll have to ask.” Harry replied. “I think it’ll be alright. I traced lots of magical imprints over the area. This place has been used for magic before.”

Narcissa reached into her robes, pulled out the small stones and placed them on her palm. She placed her other hand on the trunk, as if to ask, ‘do you mind?’

A gentle breeze rippled through the branches, and a single leaf dropped down and stuck itself to a place on the trunk near where Narcissa had placed her palm.

“There,” said Harry. “We can put it there.”

…

Ron arrived in the Malfoy foyer just after five, a bit dusty and disheveled, with a shoulderbag overflowing with scrolls. Finding no one nearby to greet him, he tergeoed himself and made his way towards the library. Hearing voices in the study, he popped open the door and stuck his head in, just in time to see Hermione’s excited face as she suddenly disappeared.

“Was that supposed to happen?” Ron asked Harry, who was sitting in an armchair near the fire. 

“Testing out some summoning stones Narcissa got her hands on,” he replied. 

“Where’ve they gone?” asked Ron, pouring himself a cup of tea as he sat down.

“Just out in the grounds, near an old oak,” Harry explained. “Narcissa and Malfoy went first, to see if it could take two people. Hermione went just after.”

Ron hmm-ed in reply, his mouth full of almond biscuits. He shrugged off his bag and started pulling scrolls out onto the small table. Harry pulled one over, and unraveled it.

“Are these... experiments?” he asked, shocked.

Ron nodded grimly, pushing aside the tea platter to fully unravel the parchment.

Day 4

Burns remain unhealed. Trial of increased strength Wiggenweld potion with dragon liver to be given today. Shall consider phoenix tears if obtained.   
Both B09 and B10 describe increased pain and weakness. Magic output minimal to low moderate.   
Energy replenishing measures to be started on advice of Healer S.

Day 5

B09 magical output increased to moderate. B10 remains low moderate. May slowly improve. Increased fatigue after performing mild to moderate difficulty spells. To attempt potion making?   
Burn wounds - status quo in both trial participants. Resistant to Wiggenweld p.  
Responsive to energy replenishment, but seems contradictory to aims of experiment. Shall discuss merits with Healer S. 

Day 6

Magical status minimal to low moderate in both participants.  
Burns - status quo  
To try wormwood extract with dragon’s blood  
Withhold energy replenishment measures at present.

Harry skimmed ahead.

Day 14

B09 expired at 13:47 on 26/08/94.   
B10 - status quo

Day 19

B10 expired at 16:04 on 31/08/94.  
Trial B948-MB5 concluded.

“Did you find any that succeeded?” Harry asked Ron.

“Not sure. Wasn't an ideal time for browsing. I’m not even sure some of the stuff is even relevant. I was in a hurry and grabbed all I could find, to be honest,” Ron replied.

They were interrupted by Hermione’s reappearance, followed by the Malfoys’.

“Is it almost time?” Ron asked, as they entered.

“I think we have a good half hour,” Draco replied. “We’re sure about the summoning stones. We’ve practiced a bit of wandless magic.”

“Got some stuff to help with a diversion from George,” Hermione added. She patted the pocket of her robe. 

Ron raised an eyebrow. “Lose the handbag?” 

Hermione grinned. “It seemed conspicuous.”

Seeing Draco’s confused expression, Harry explained, “If you ever need anything, use a summoning charm. I’ll bet she even has an extra pair of your drawers in there.”

“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed, blushing. “I just want to be prepared. I don’t think we’ll be staying more than a few hours anyway.”

“Hopefully,” added Narcissa grimly.

That sobered up the four of them quickly.

Harry cleared off the table with a whisk of his wand. 

“Ron’s found some documents. We’ll go over them when you get back. Let’s go over the plan for now.”

Draco sat down and pulled over Hermione’s notebook.

“We’ve gone over what we can safely reveal. And what we plan to ask.”

“We’re still not sure what they already know, so we’re going to have to improvise once we’re there,” Hermione added. “But I thought it’d be better to have an idea of what we need.”

“Hopefully, they won’t be antagonistic,” Narcissa said hesitantly. “Don’t stay for a second longer than necessary. Their magic will be different than ours, and who knows what they intend.”

Draco patted the sleeve of her robe gently. 

“We’ve been in worse situations, Mother. We’ll be fine. We’re prepared.”

She sighed and nodded wearily. “I know. Which is why I’m worried you’ll be reckless.”

Draco grinned despite himself.

“Granger’s the reckless one, Mother.”

“Hey!” Hermione defended. “If anything, I’m experienced in controlling recklessness.”

Harry and Ron looked at each other knowingly.

“What?” Hermione exclaimed. “You all don’t seriously think I’m the reckless one?”

Draco shrugged. “Well, judging by your stories..”

“Stories? They’ve been just as reckless as me!”

Ron looked at Harry pointedly, then asked, “Whose idea was it to set the centaurs on Umbrige in fifth year?”

“Really? Well, I didn’t mean for that to happen and you know it!”

“Whose idea was it to set Snape on fire?”

“It was first year! None of us had any idea what-”

“First year?” Narcissa exclaimed. “Medusa’s locks!”

Hermione glared at the three men. 

Draco cleared his throat. “I think it’s almost time. Let’s not lose focus”

He rose to take the small disk out of his drawer and placed it on the desk. Hermione stood next to him as he pulled out his wand.

“Ready?”

They all nodded. Draco gave the metal a tap, and muttered, “Tenebras autem tantum defectum videre.”

A small whizzing sound emitted from the metal as it rose and started spinning in the air. 

Just like from the chamber in Báthory Manor, a wind enclosed both Draco and Hermione, wrapping them up and pulling them towards the whirling disk. Hermione yelled something to Draco, inaudible to the others above the rush of wind, and he grabbed her wrist, just as they were pulled into the metal object. Suddenly, the wind stopped and the disk fell with a thud, motionless, onto the desk.


End file.
